


BioHazard!

by Orion-At-Dusk (Mattie_the_Pand0rk)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Medical, Anesthesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aster Serif - Freeform, Biology, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Comfort Food, Cyberpunk, Disabled Character, Disabled Character of Color, Drugging, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food, Gen, HRT, Heavy Angst, Human Biology, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Male Character, M/M, Malachai Wright - Freeform, Medical, Medical Conditions, Medical Device, Medical Examination, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misgendering, Needles, Other, Pain, Painplay, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Surgery, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Virus, hormone replacement therapy, top surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattie_the_Pand0rk/pseuds/Orion-At-Dusk
Summary: You are a young ward of the Japanese government named Malachai Wright, living a life in quarantine in the Miyakojima Ward of Osaka after a deadly epidemic took the lives of nearly a quarter of the world's population of both Humans and Monsters. You were one of the very few lucky ones, only losing a good deal of mobility in your legs, but that means jack to the now medically-centrist government. As you navigate the frustrations of living with limited time outside your residence and attempt to seek gender-affirming treatment, you realize your pre-existing condition as an epidemic survivor may cost you more than you care to pay.
Relationships: Gaster OC/Reader, W. D. Gaster OC/Reader, W. D. Gaster OC/You, W. D. Gaster/Original Character(s), W. D. Gaster/Reader, W. D. Gaster/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	1. Street Food

The Saturday night is young in the metropolitan downtown of Miyakojima, known by the masses worldwide (now) as The Ward of Monsters. Lights and LED billboards flicker and gleam with echoing noise against the black mirror glass of the skyscrapers. The grey double moons are full and looking down upon the city like a pair of sleepless eyes as the night owl denizens hustle and bustle on the streets below. Cars on electromagnetic rails transport passengers to and fro on the roads and in the air, the walkways criss-crossed along the infrastructure are crowded with both Monsters and Humans trying to make the most of their night before curfew.

You look out from your tiny apartment’s window under the quarantine tape down into the city. It’s such a nice night for late Autumn, and all you want to do is just go for a walk to get the blood flowing. But instead, you’re stuck inside waiting for the visiting nurse to give you your weekly evaluation to renew the hours you’re allotted outside your apartment for the month. You sigh whimsically leaning on the sill and pressed against the glass, the glowing embellishments on the clothes of the citizens’ sleek silhouettes a visual siren song for you to come join the early evening fun below. You look over your shoulder, then at your wrist to the band monitor. He’s running late, that lazy bastard. There’s only a few more hours until the winter curfew kicks in, and you don’t want to have to wait til next week for that fucker’s approval when it’s already too late to enjoy the nightlife for the rest of the year.

You check your emails on your wrist again. No correspondence from that asshat. Grumbling, you start to think that he’s doing it on purpose. It’s the third appointment in a row he’s ‘running late’ and given your ‘delicate condition’ (as the Disability and Disease Consulate so **gently** put it) it’s about what you’d expect from the Capitol’s Finest Authority on ‘Everything’. He’s always shitty and shorting you on your hours you have a right to, as a Grandfathered case. You’re pretty sure it’s either your attempts at appealing your gender change surgery decisions with him or the fact you’re crippled from the waist down that’s rubbing him the wrong way. You bring it up every time and at this point it’s just out of spite because his lack of actual bedside manner is starting to wear your patience thin.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Still no correspondence or ETA. You press your forehead against the cold glass. Your wrist beeps, indicating it’s time for your meds. So, you hoist yourself up and limp over to the kitchenette to the basket sitting on the table full of the prescriptions the City wants you to take on top of the ones you’ve gone through countless hoops to receive. Glass of water in one hand, you shuffle to the two-person table and flop into the dining chair with a frustrated sigh. You pull out your pill dispenser for that week and dump the four required ones out first. Yay, mealtime. One by one, you down them. One for prophylaxis, one for remission, one for nutrient deficiency, and one for pain. Then with those out of the way, you stare at the individual pre-packaged syringe of glorious, gender-affirming ambrosia. **Testosterone**. Your lifeline to feeling just a bit more like yourself. It took you a full year to convince your primary care provider to allow you at least the minimum dosage to finally kickstart your transition. You suppose that’s what happens when you’re broke and can’t afford a doctor in a better district. Well, better late than never, eh?

You gulp, reaching for the alcohol swabs first to sanitize your thigh first before you stab it. Your hand trembles. Despite having been on this for months now, it’s still a daunting task to poke yourself with an inch long needle once a week. You waft your hand over the drying spot to hurry the process along, and after a quick moment you feel like it’s good enough and jab the needle in quickly before you chicken out. After ten seconds, you hurry to throw a bandaid on it and sigh heavily, relieved that it’s over. After disposing the used needle in the red container, you lean back and look at the clock on the stove. “That bastard. There’s like two hours left and I’m so done with his bullshit,” you growl. Your wristwatch beeps, a second reminder to take your medicines. “Alright, fucking hell I’m done, you stupid watch.” You sigh again, and the watch beeps to remind you to breathe deeply. “UGH.” You silence it, the beeping getting on your last nerve.

You impatiently tap your fingers against the wood of the antique table for a few minutes. You do have like, thirty minutes of time left this week, and a few extra bucks of spending money from that little restorative art project you sold two weeks ago. Maybe just a quick walk won’t hurt. You could go for some takoyaki right about now. Not enough time to slurp down tonkatsu ramen sadly. And your monitor might yell at you for all that extra sodium and fat. Looking at the clock, you have a window of about an hour and a half left to play with anyway.

Hoisting yourself off the dining chair, you hobble over to your dresser to throw on your binder, your grey slouchy hat, a long sleeved shirt, your favorite hooded leather jacket, a pair of black jeans and your Converse hightops. You finish your “look” off with your one new-ish item you were gifted: a purple surgical mask with a blacklight LED skull for decoration. You wrap the ear loops around your ears under your hat and take a quick look in your mirror to confirm your appearance is up to City standards. You nod, saying to yourself it’s as good as it’s gonna get, and grab up your forearm crutches to slip them on before you sneak out.

Keys, wallet bag, headphones… and ugh. Wrist monitor. You wish you didn’t have to wear it, it gets in the way of your crutches a bit and leaves a mark when you have to go longer distances. You swing the door open and the scanner on the door frame pings and shines a purple light on you. “Malachai Wright, you have a balance of **Thirty. Five. Minutes.** Of Quarantine Discharge remaining. Syncing Monitor in five. Four. Three. Two. One,” the scanner recording says. You roll your eyes, but you know if you don’t wait for that to at least finish the process the Quarantine officers will start tracking you down. Remission or not, it’s a pain in the ass. It beeps, letting you know that you’re all set to head out for the little time you are allotted. You make sure the door shuts behind you and locks properly before heading down the hall to the elevator. You don’t like the sounds it makes when you use it, but it’s that or take twenty-five minutes to descend seven flights of stairs and miss your curfew. You ignore the music beating behind the thin walls of the janky complex. Your neighbors are at least respectful and don’t blast the music til five in the morning. You lean on the metal wall of the lift and put your headphones on to set the mood for your quick stroll around the block to the takoyaki stand on the other side of the building. The crunchy bass kicks in, sending a nice little shock of goose pimples down your back and arms. Pleased, you hit the button for the ground floor and wait for the lift to start before leaning forward on your crutches.

You’re feeling a bit more hungry as you descend to the ground, leaning on your crutches as you look at the swarms of citizens going back and forth below. Mm, maybe you want a melon soda to go with it…? You shudder a little and giggle excitedly. Food is a huge motivator for you, and thinking about marble sodas and delicious fried meaty goodness is putting an extra skip in your step as the doors open to let you out into the street finally. You find yourself swinging your crutches and bobbing along to your music in the peppy electronic rhythm of The Viles by Blaqk Audio. You’re daydreaming as you hop along, your feet nearly unable to keep up with your arms in your excitement. You turn the corner with your eyes closed down the alley connecting the street your building is on with the one behind it where the food vendors are. You don’t realize just how busy it is this time of day as everyone is trying to either get home before curfew or take as much Autumn entertainment in as possible. And you fling yourself right into someone who also isn’t paying attention.

Like throwing yourself into a wall of jelly, you bounce off of them and land on your ass. It knocks your headphones clean off and onto the sidewalk, and your crutches are splayed out across the walkway. People step over them uncaringly as they pass. You can hear a couple people tut in annoyance or laugh as you try to gather your thoughts. You realize what has happened and you look up to make sure you didn’t hurt them. “Oh, oh god I’m so--” Your eyes widen in fear and you partly crabwalk back away from them a few inches. The person you bumped into seems unharmed, just startled as they stare at you. “I’m so sorry! I-Um-I--” Speechless. Of course.

But how can you not be? The Monster is wearing a purple surgical mask, one with a glowing green biohazard symbol stitched in it, but it doesn’t detract from observing their other features. Their immense height and their stitched black scars and unsettling blue and purple eyes and white skin is quite the unsettling sight. You’re frozen in shock, as you’ve never seen such a Monster in all the times you’ve been out and about even for short bursts at a time. Not that you’re **afraid** of Monsters. Just this particular one seems like a rare breed and therefore unpredictable in this encounter.

The Monster towering over you seems to have processed the event immediately and approaches you hands outstretched. “Oh, my, my! I am **quite** sorry; please forgive my haste! Here, let me help you,” they say in a soft, shockingly contemporary, British brogue. You recoil just a split second as they near you, but shake it off. They help you to your feet after you are able to get your headphones from under the feet of the other pedestrians. They’re giving you no room to grab your crutches comfortably, but the Monster quickly makes sure that changes. They offer some help up once you can grip the handles. You try your best not to lean on them too much as you gain your bearings. They brush your shoulders off of the dust that fell on your coat and furrow their eyebrows. “It would seem the general public is not used to accommodating for a person using Lofstrand walking aids. I do apologize again. Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine, are you? Sorry for bumpin’ into you.” You roll your shoulders back and you check in with yourself that you’re not too bruised. You hadn’t been that distracted in a while. Maybe it was the thrill of running away from a late appointment? It seems fine for now, even if it did bump into your injection site and set it to throb a bit.  
  
The Monster seems to relax a little when you don’t seem angry or anything. You relax too, almost mimicking the odd person. “I’m just fine, thank you.” He takes a look at his wristband and shrugs. “Oh, well, I must be on my way. Have a good rest of your night, young man.”

They strut off before another word can be said, carefully weaving through the crowd they easily tower over and disappearing around the corner. You have to stop and think for a moment. Did they--? You whip around, the urge to chase the odd Monster down to ask him to repeat that and thank him if you heard correctly. Your wrist beeps, though, reminding you that you have twenty minutes remaining before you will clock into Overtime for your next month’s allowed time. You curse under your breath and spin around, doubling down your speed out of need for that sweet, delicious fried treat before the end of the season. It only takes about five minutes thankfully, and that will give you just enough time to get back to your flat with the tasty in tow.

The booth is in sight. Just a few more long strides! You can smell the bonito and spicy mayo. Mmmmmmmmm~

Licking your lips, you leap right to the table to order and pay. You get your melon marble soda, and wait and watch as the vendor expertly fries up the little meaty donut holes. Before you know it, you’re on your way back with the spoils of your tricksy little escape from the confines of your government-provided home. You can taste it now, the salty, wonderfully chewy texture of the octopus co-mingling with the breading and spring onion…

Just as you round the corner back to the entrance to your complex, though, you get an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach, like the feeling of being dropped from the tall hill on a roller coaster. It makes you hesitate, and look around. You see a person wearing all black staring directly at you from across the street. “No, thanks,” you hiss under your breath, trying to gain the ability to move again. The sight is, to say the least, startling, and it takes you a moment to remember the reason you need to hurry. You blink and they disappear. You shake your head and take a deep breath, and the feeling vanishes as you hurry. You only have two minutes left now.

You rush into the elevator. “Shit.” You’re sure you shook the bottle of soda to hell. You’ll have to wait on that for now. Thankfully, the elevator seems to be a little quicker going up this time and you make it back with forty-five seconds to spare. With a relieved sigh, you swing around to put the takoyaki on the counter and a presence at the table startles you, shaking the container and toppling the pretty presentation of your food. Damn it all.  
  
“Skipping out on your appointment again, McKenzie?” Your visiting ‘nurse’, Ren, sneers, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at you. His paper surgical mask crinkles with his smugness.

You suck in a deep breath. You’re instantly angry from his deadnaming, and now that your food is aesthetically fucked you’re at your limits already. “It’s **Malachai**. And yeah, so what if I was? I’m sick of you holding me up okay? Just because my legs don’t work right doesn’t give you the right to treat me like an inconvenience. And you have no right to use that name; Malachai is my **legal **name now. This is your fucking job! I waited for two fucking hours for you, two hours! You were supposed to be here at six, and you never sent me any message saying you were gonna be late! I’m a human, too, despite what you seem to think. You’ve pushed every single limit with me and I’m fucking tired of having to work around your impossible schedule!” You inhale again and stomp with your right crutch. “Do your goddamned eval and get out of my fucking hair you piece of shit.”

Ren stands and puffs out his chest, hissing under his breath at you. “Listen here you crippled little snowflake. If I were you I’d treat the one who determines my hours outside of quarantine just a bit more nicely. Cause right now it’s looking like it’ll be halved with ill behavior as the reason. And **that** would warrant a longer wait time before re-evaluation, now, wouldn’t it~? I’d say, oh, about six months.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you growl, gripping the handles of your crutches angrily.

The bastard smirks behind his yellow mask. “Try me, princess.” You growl again. But say nothing, not even to correct him. You know he’s not bluffing. He did that two years ago to you when you were forced to come out to him when you wanted to seek hormone replacement therapy. Tears sting your eyes and your teeth grind as you sway in place, trying to keep yourself from launching yourself at him to beat him down with your crutches. He steps up to you and jabs you with a needle to the arm, grabbing a quick blood sample. “That’s more like it. Princess.” You chew the inside of your cheek to stop from spitting at him.

A meter beeps, and he reaches into his bag to toss your monthly meds and supplies on the table carelessly. They’ve been lazily tossed in a sealed plastic bag. He holds out a cup to your mouth. You snort, and hock a loogie into it. There’s a bit of blood from biting your cheek. “Stop drinking so much soda,” he commands, looking at his screen from the results of the blood sample he ripped from you. He seals the cup up and stows it in his bag. Ren taps a couple things on his wrist monitor. It beeps a little digital fanfare. “We’re done here. Congrats. You’re approved for another hundred and five hours of Quarantine Discharge in the coming month. Princess.”  
  
“Good. Bye.” You turn to punch the button to open the door, motioning to shoo the asshole out of your little cozy prison. He shrugs the bag over his shoulder and strolls out like he won the battle, and does a little two-fingered salute to you sarcastically.  
  
“See ya next month, **McKenzie** .” The snark is so strong it almost makes you punch him. But you don’t. Instead, when the door shuts, you punch the door after you make sure he’s far away from earshot.  
  
Your breathing is heavy, your eyes sting with tears, and your face is hot. Stupid fucker! You’ve tried and tried to report him, but you keep getting the fucking run-around with the Consulate and their vast amount of departments. You sniff and wipe your eyes, tossing your crutches aside to just shuffle around your flat toward your now-soggy food and shaken soda. Fuck him. Fuck that asshat and his superiority complex. You flop into the dining chair with the box of toppled takoyaki and the bottle, yanking your chopsticks from your little utensil holder on the table. You don’t even bother saying your usual ‘itadakimasu’ before angrily digging into your food.

So much for victory.


	2. Ramen in the Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You run into that mysterious Monster again, this time in a much more pleasant manner.

Another day, another dollar.

It’s a gloomy late Autumn day. You met a potential client at a tea cafe around three to restore an old figurine for some extra cash to stow back or splurge on some more food or maybe a new sweater or accessory. She seemed agreeable for the pricing and everything, including shipping to and from your apartment, so you exchanged information and chatted for a bit while you two finished your drinks. It got a little uncomfortable, though, when she realized you’re trans and she started asking sort of invasive questions about your transition (or lack thereof) and also about your medical conditions. Thankfully you managed to slurp down the rest of your drink and get out of there before she thought to ask about what’s in your pants.  
  


Now, you’re spending the last hour or so you have for today’s fresh air at the ramen bar just down the street from your place. A Monster is manning the counter. You sit down, slip your crutches off, and take off your mask. You bow to them lightly as you take a seat and they approach you. They’re made of flames and when they get close to grab your order, it’s like their warmth just radiates into your bones. They don’t have a mouth, so you sign in Japanese Sign Language a second greeting to see if that would help the transactions. They seem shocked, but respond and seem to grin with the expression of their blank yellow eyes.  
  
*Hello, I’m Malachai. It’s good to meet you!  
  


*Hello, Malachai, welcome to my store. My name is Grillby. What can I make for you?  
  


You smile in relief that you guessed right and nod, grinning. *I’d like tonkotsu, please!  
  


He nods again and turns to prepare your dish. While you wait, you look out the open windows and sigh. It’s starting to rain. Great. You didn’t bring a rain coat. Oh well. You accept your fate and movement catches your eye. A Monster walks in—one with a familiar shape and size, and the same purple mask you remember from the one you knocked into a few weeks back. Well, they don’t so much stroll in as duck. You stare as they shrug off their damp coat and hang it on the hook close to the door with a slightly exasperated sigh. When the Monster turns to find a seat at the bar, they find you staring and they wave, clearly grinning behind that mask of his. “Ah! Well, well. What a pleasant surprise this is!” They chuckle, walking up with a renewed pep in their step.  
  


They lean down to bow to you a little and look at the seats to the left and right of you. “Ah, are you a left hand or a right hand?” It throws you for a loop with the seemingly random question. You don’t even know them and they want to know about your hands? You blink with your shock, unsure of what they’re getting at. “I’m a lefty myself,” They chuckle, holding up their large, white-gloved hand and wiggling their fingers playfully.  
  


You’re dazed from the odd interaction. They’re being so nice to you. Like seeing an old friend again. It’s... it’s unusual. And you’re not sure if you should welcome it, or be suspicious of it. But, Monsters have a history of kindness toward Humans, so… Maybe you’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. “Uh… I’m--I’m have a.” You shake your head and cringe. Get your shit together, Malachai. Fucking hell. “**I’m** a right-y,” you answer awkwardly, mimicking their motion with your dominant hand. You smile despite feeling a bit uncomfortable, still unsure of what the intention of the question was.  
  


“Excellent!” They chortle, standing up straight and adjusting their round, silver glasses over their mask before taking the seat to your left. Oh! He’s a lefty, so he doesn’t want to bump arms while you’re eating. That makes sense. That is… strangely polite. The odd Monster still towers over you, even seated. “Ah. Forgive me. My name is Aster. He-Him-His.” He reaches out to shake your hand with his gloved palm. With a moment of hesitation, you reach out to shake it. Is that… a hole in his palm? The handshake is firm, but warm and mindful of how fragile a Human hand could be in his. And then you realize he offered you his pronouns. It makes you smile more genuinely. And he smiles. There’s an unusual, almost knowing air around him. Huh. Not unpleasant, but not expected of someone you literally bumped into a couple weeks prior.  
  


You briefly wonder if you’d get the same warm welcome from him if he knew you are a carrier of the very virus that killed most of his kind and a good chunk of Humans. But that thought is fleeting and you focus back on the impending introduction. With a nod, you respond in kind. “Nice to meet you, Aster. I’m Malachai. He-Him-His.” The handshake lasts a second longer before Aster withdraws first and stretches his hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny bottle, spraying some of the contents onto his glove and rubs his hands together. It smells like a strong sanitizer. It throws you off yet again. You don’t take it as rude behaviour, but your shocked staring probably indicates otherwise.  
  


Aster notices that you’re watching him and bows his head a little. “Ah, forgive me I do not mean to offend, Malachai! I do this regularly in public. You could call me a germaphobe, I suppose,” he laughs awkwardly. Grillby returns with your ramen. It looks absolutely tasty. You sign a thank you to him and clap your hands together before signing and saying “itadakimasu”. Grillby turns to Aster and smiles at him with a friendly nod.  
  


*Ah, hello Grillby! Long time no see. I’d like some sake for myself and my friend Malachai here, please. Perhaps an order of _ **nikuman** _ ?  
  


Grillby nods and smiles, moving down the bar to get Aster’s order around. You blink at him. You just met and he’s buying sake to share? What is with this dude? Aster sighs and sits back in his seat a little, removing his mask with a sigh. When he turns to you, it takes every last ounce of your decency not to recoil from him. His face, though freckled and round and otherwise pleasant, is marred by two gruesome black scars stitched over with neat black sutures stretching over his black eyes. Paired with his gimpy right blue iris and bright purple left, it’s hard not to stare. It’s much too striking against his soft white skin. This is not lost on him and he smiles reassuringly, but says nothing. Instead, he decides to find distraction in casual conversation. “Malachai. What an unusual name, especially for one so young. If I may ask—did you choose that name, or was it given to you?”  
  


You blink again, shifting in your chair a second. That’s not a question you get regarding your identity. But it’s kind of nice and refreshing. He waits patiently, but doesn’t seem to expect anything from you. “Uh. I chose it. I ah. Didn’t like my name so I decided to change it.” You look up and down at him. You can’t tell, but the way he seems so comfortable with you it makes you wonder. “Are you…?”  
  
  
“--Transgender? No, no. But I am well aware of the community!” Aster chuckles. Grillby comes back with the sake, two cups, and a basket of steamed pork buns. *Thank you for the food!  
  


Grillby bows and moves to tend to another patron on the far end of the bar. Aster pours you a serving of warm sake and then himself, and raises his cup for a silent toast. You take the cup he poured you gratefully and raise it before sipping it. The alcohol makes you cough, and that makes your new friend chuckle. “A bit of a lightweight, are we?” he snorts.  
  


“Augh… Ugh… Yeah haha. I don’t really drink all that much.” Not that you could afford to anyway. That shitty visiting nurse also would twist a story like you have a drinking problem and find ways to make it even more difficult to continue getting aid. Your grimace lasts for a moment too long, you realize, and it sours Aster’s kind smile a bit. “O-Oh, I’m sorry. I do like sake, though, thank you. I just… have a lot on my mind and it reminded me of something. Sorry.”  
  
  
Like it hardly happened, Aster’s sunny disposition returns and he nods to you. “ I understand. It’s often hard to shake off negativity with weather like this!” He chuckles, pointing behind him with his thumb and snorting a bit. As if to make his point clearer, a rumble of thunder shakes the air. “Well, hah, looks like we’ll be here for a bit. Good thing we keep pleasant company, eh?”  
  


You smile. You find yourself agreeing with that entirely. Who cares if it’ll eat into your limited hours. There’s still plenty of time before your curfew, and Aster seems genuinely interested in just chilling out. “Heh… Yeah. Yeah, the company’s not half bad,” you laugh lightly, playfully nudging him just a bit, making sure it’s just your covered elbow nudging his. He smiles at you, seeming relieved you didn’t use your bare hand to touch him, and grateful for your mindfulness.  
  


An awkward silence hangs in the air for a few moments. Your eyes glance up at the small screen above the bar turned to a news channel when you realize there is a soft sound filling the space. It looks Monster-based. Something about the Monster curfew being under review by the Chancellor. Aster looks up, too. He chuckles dryly when he hears what the caster is saying. You look to him and tip your head a bit, wondering what’s so funny. He sees you asking him silently and flicks his gaze to your ramen you haven’t touched yet. He smirks. “You seem to have forgotten your meal, Malachai,” he teases, picking up a bun from the plate to munch on.  
  
  
You look down at the bowl, still steaming. It’s magical; the dish doesn’t look soggy or cold for how long you waited to eat. After a surprised blink, you smile at Aster and dig into your tonkotsu. Mm! savoury, flame-charred pork belly! You slurp down a few piping hot bites and take a break, sniffing from your nose running from how good it is. You pat your mouth from the splashed broth and look over to your new friend. You should probably ask him questions or make some sort of conversation. “So uh...” He takes a sip from his sake and turns his attention to you. “...What do you like to do, Aster?”  
  


He smirks gently at your poor attempt at small talk, and sets his cup down. The kind Monster humours you with an answer, albeit a rather...cryptic one. “Lots of things!” He responds simply with another dry laugh. “What about you, Malachai? Where do your interests lie?”  
  


You smile, knowing Aster is deflecting. Two can play at that game. “Eh, lots of places.”  
  


Aster snorts. Touche. He nods and leans back in his chair to look at you with a more critical eye. “Alright, I see what you’re playing at, mate. Eye for an eye, as it were. Since you asked first… I enjoy people-watching.” He waves to you, telling you that it’s your turn to divulge a little fun-fact about yourself.  
  


You laugh. At least he’s a good sport. “Fair nuff. People watching is fun. I do it all the time… when I have it, anyway.” You blush a little. It sounds a bit sad when you put it like that. He catches how sad you sound about it, and cocks his split eyebrow in curiosity. Aster doesn’t press though. Which you’re thankful for. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit that you’re limited on how much time you’re allowed outside each month. “Um. I restore art when I can find people who are interested.”  
  


“Oh, that sounds quite fun! That must be a fascinating process?” Aster leans on the counter, turning a bit to face you better, and grabs another bun. Now he seems engaged. It was like flipping a switch.  
  


“Well, it’s never a dull moment.” You snort, snipping the boiled egg in half with your chopsticks to get some of the yolk mixed into the broth. “Everyone always thinks that shit is a press of a button or some quick computerized code like some hacker,” you mutter under your breath. It really gets your blood pumping when people assume that it’s so easy and want to pay a skeleton price for countless hours of meticulous restoration with mixing and remixing paints and epoxies and gathering materials that are hard to find anymore.  
  
  
“Hm, is that right? That must be frustrating,” Aster quips, taking a small sip from his cup before pouring you and himself some more. “In this computerized, digital age surely you could procure what you need more easily?”  
  


You groan audibly and try to refrain from flopping onto the bar top. It’s like he knew exactly what to say to tick you off about the jobs you take on. “Noo, actually it’s very much the opposite. Some antique pigments can’t be replicated through modern colour-matching smart ink like these ‘**art-eests’** are so inclined to use these days.” You lean toward him and take a sassy drink from your sake, side-eyeing him. He’s clearly enjoying seeing this saucy attitude from you. You just wish mixing pigments was seen as a skill instead of a party trick. It’s hard since some pigment ingredients are now either illegal (and you have to procure them from your online contacts on the black market) or endangered (also found through your contacts). ...Not that you’d tell Aster that. Maybe he’s being friendly because he works with the government and they’re trying to pin you for black market dealing.

  
Aster seems thoroughly entertained, though, and paying attention without being over the top about it. You sigh and rub the back of your head awkwardly, though, realizing you’ve gushed to someone who’s still pretty much a complete stranger. The Monster’s smile falls when you become more reserved again. “It seems to be quite a **visceral** passion for you. What made you find interest in the archaic?”  
  


You smile. He does seem genuinely interested…  
  


So, you continue to explain the history behind the art, and reasons why one should be passionate about it. But not the reasons why you pursue preserving pieces from the Old World. Before the virus, before you became partially paralyzed and permanently placed in semi-quarantine, before your Gramma passed and left you as an orphan. The ‘Old World’, where working with your hands instead of your mind and being covered in acrylic and oil and gypsum plaster and even papier mâché was the norm. Simpler times, before your awareness of your body complicated things and you could be left to your devices and free to explore things as you like.  
  


Aster remains engrossed in your history of sculpture, how you geek out over the little details of earthen clay and marble and even porcelain that artists of old managed to achieve in such a tactile manner. He even encourages you to gush more, which is actually something you didn’t expect. Usually people ask basic questions, but he asks questions about certain pieces, engaging you with terminology not many Humans remember (unless they are actual art historians with actual training and not just a dweeb like you), and generally remaining genuinely curious about your specialty. He orders another vessel of sake, sharing again but drinking most of it himself. His cheeks only get a little flushed with dusty purple against his pale skin.  
  


But soon, too soon, your wrist yells at you. It’s time to go, as curfew is only half an hour away now and you have yet to take your meds for the day. Aster adjusts himself when your screen beeps and snaps him out of his train of thought. He sees that it’s telling you how much time you have left for Quarantine Discharge and how much time is left before Human Curfew. He cocks his eyebrow again but says nothing. You hide your hand under the bar now, blushing. He smiles in understanding. “Ah, I’m sorry. I took up a lot of that conversation. And now I have to go...”  
  
  
Aster grins. “That’s quite alright. It was a very enjoyable time, Malachai. I learned quite a lot!” He looks at his sleeker, more expensive looking wristband and nods in satisfaction. “Hm! Excellent, my quota is nearly met. I must thank you, young man! It’s important to learn something new, you know. It keeps the mind young and open!” He chuckles and winks at you before looking outside. The rain stopped, but now everything is wet. You sigh, but you are a bit relieved. You didn’t think to bring your rain stuff with you. “Do you need an escort home?” Aster bubbles lightly.  
  


You really aren’t sure if you’re ready to have anyone **knowing** where you live. Especially someone you are still getting to know. It is sweet that he offers, but this close to home it really isn’t an issue. “Ah, no. But thank you!” You reach into your bag to get your wallet to pay for your food.  
  


“Very well, Malachai. But I must insist—I’ll pay for your meal. I did happen to impose myself on your meal time!” He chuckles, resting a hand on his round belly.  
  


“Oh no, ah, that’s not necessary-- It was nice to have company! I mean, we were both sort of stuck here anyway, yeah? ...Uh I mean, like, um. Yeah, it was, it was fun but you don’t--” You find yourself tripping over your words while trying to (unsuccessfully) decline a generous offer.  
  
  
He grins and laughs at your feeble attempt. “I won’t have it. It was extremely fun, and it’s the least I could do for accidentally knocking you over as you were out and about a while ago.” He reaches out when Grillby comes over with a screen and he taps his wristband to it. It beeps, and both his meal and yours are already paid. Seems he won’t take no for an answer. You blush. “It’s been an absolutely wonderful pleasure. I hope to see you again sometime! Have a pleasant night, Malachai.” Aster bubbles and nods, getting up to get his coat and leaving gracefully with a sweet wink at you. He doesn’t even seem slightly affected by the amount of sake he consumed… Your wrist beeps again and knocks you out of your stupor. Oh shit you have ten minutes to get home now! You scramble and get your crutches back on and stumble out the door in a flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think what I'm going to attempt is updating BioHazard in the beginning of the month, and Sweet Boy at the end. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support! Sweet Boy has become my fastest-growing fic (second to Eggselent Experiments), and this one is following close behind thanks to your continued patronage to them.


	3. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You keep running into Aster. At least he's polite about it, right?

**>** **3** **y, F** **id0**

<0hayō Lavend3rGoth

<u ready 4 that d8

**>** **u b** **3** **t! Can u gra6 me sum th1ngs ** **tho** **?**

<Tell m3 what y4 need babe u know 1m flush !kissyface!

**>** **b** **a6yCake, ur the 6e5t. Ur ** **lil ** **61tch ** **is cravin mochi 64d. Plz?**

<!eye! Ge7ch0o straw6err1e, 6la96errie, and 74ro?

**<Y3s om9 luv u ba63 !blushie!**

>C u s00n !winkieface!

You log off and lean back in your chair with a sigh. Cool, that lady’s antique figurine will be done and you’ll be able to collect early. It’s not often your contact can get the thing right away, but what you’re needing to polish up is small and t hey probably just h ave the s tuff laying around.  You can’t help but grin. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Fido, it’ll be nice to catch up for a little and exchange some stories. Maybe you’ll tell t hem about your crazy encounter at the Monster-run ramen bar? ...Or maybe not. It’d be bad to get a nice person like him involved in the less savory bits of your trade. Even just Fido knowing might be enough to get in some trouble to be honest.  You’ll probably just stick to the current job at hand for you and how much of a dick your visiting ‘nurse’ is.

You spin and glance at your clock. Oh shit, you gotta fly if you’re gonna meet up with the contact! You launch yourself out of the chair, banging your knee against the table leg, and limp over to put on some actual pants, your hat, and your mask cursing to yourself. As you walk out, you stash your cash in a little hack-job compartment you sewed yourself into your bag. You struggle to juggle that and your crutches, dropping some of the coins onto the floor. Growling, you kick them back into your flat toward your bed to pick up later.   
You sway impatiently as the scanner on your door does it’s thing and clocks your time out. It feels like the elevator takes forever to descend. It’s like the elevator is stopping at every other floor, for no fucking reason. You look down the glass toward the street. It’s pretty busy, but it shouldn’t be a problem for you regardless. As long as you pay attention to where you’re going. You roll your shoulders back and head off to your drop off point as the door opens. Why does everything just feel so slow and so fast at the same time? It’s agitating. You’re agitated. You’re not sure why exactly. But you do know that today you have a short fuse.  
Thankfully the cafe isn’t far from home. After a quick stride around the block to the East, the buildings surrounding the cafe are casting a late afternoon shadow over your seat by the window. It’s very cozy in here, despite the cutesy décor. The only issue is trying to find a place for your crutches that isn’t in the way of the robot maids that serve the guests. Normally you could just let them rest in the booth with you, but the only seating in this joint consists of vintage-style bentwood chairs. You give up after a few minutes of struggling and just lay them against the wall next to you under the window sill, then throw your mask onto the table in your frustration. Well, you don’t anticipate having to dash out for any reason… So you proceed to order a pot of tea and a couple rose-raindrop cakes from the tabletop menu. After ten minutes, the floating robot brings you a cute metal tea tray with what you ordered, and you set it in the center of the table and pour yourself some tea while you wait for Fido. You tap your wrist to the maid’s screen and in a cute high-pitched voice to confirm you’ve paid, says “Domo arigato gozaimasu, thank you,” and floats away chirruping a little tune. You add crème, and a little sugar to your cup. It’s a new blend imported from the UK, according to the menu. It’s surprisingly savoury, so the sugar and milk balance it out pretty nicely. Out of your bag, you pull out your tablet and start sketching in your drawing program. While you sketch, you lazily snack on your cake after pouring the syrup over top. The floral flavour of the treat is the perfect complement to the tea. Suddenly you start feeling slightly less irritable, and you become more focused on drawing as you wait.

It doesn’t start out as much, just a few circles. But you find yourself beginning to sketch out a face, then it becomes a bust with a background. There’s a TV screen, a few wood beams, some seating off to the right. The face is cute, but a bit creepy too. A few scars, some freckles  across the nose … Something is off, though. It doesn’t look complete, but you can’t put your finger on it for some reason.  It starts eating at you… until you realize it’s been an hour and Fido still hasn’t appeared. You glance around casually, trying to determine if you’ve been followed by someone or you’re being watched. There doesn’t seem to be anyone really. The streets aren’t crowded and you picked a spot with the most view of the outside and in. There aren’t any cameras, either, from what you can tell. Fuck, maybe he was intercepted?  Or maybe there was a miscommunication from when the drop was supposed to take place? It’s happened before… yeah, that’s gotta be it.

You look at the cake you ordered for them and frown. It’s already a puddle on the plate,  a lot of it evaporated. Your heart sinks. Oh… Right, they only last a little bit.  Well, shit. Sighing, you look around once more and then back down to your rough sketch, which is slowly becoming a more detailed piece. Thoughts drift while you try to troubleshoot why it’s not quite right. “I have glasses with a nose piece, but no nose to hold them there!” A familiar voice bubbles from over your shoulder. You flail and drop your notebook on the table and your pencil goes flying. A white, gloved hand catches the pencil in a blink and laughs. You spin around defensively, ready to throw a punch at the person who snuck up on you. “Oh, I am quite sorry, Malachai. I did not mean to startle you!” Aster exclaims, bringing his hands up in a sign of peace while still holding onto your pencil. 

You lower your fist and lay it open on your chest, exhaling in exasperation. “Christ, you fucking scared me Aster, goddamn it!” You breathe, not realizing how much you just cursed in one sentence.

Aster seems thoroughly amused by y our reaction though, and laughs a little,  dropping his hands . “Again, my apologies friend. My intention wasn’t to startle you. I saw that you were sitting here alone, with a pot of tea and a decomposing t reat and assumed you were cold-shouldered by a date. I wanted to say hello and cheer you up!”

“Me?” You snort, shaking your head. “On a date? Nah. I was just. Er...” You have to think fast. “I was just waiting on a friend. It’s been a while since we saw each other and we had plans to meet up. But they must have... forgot.”

Aster smiles behind his usual mask and adjusts his glasses a bit with his free hand.  “Ah, still! It’s always disappointing being  forgotten. May I join you?” 

“Oh uh…” You look out the window, to see if Fido is rounding the corner or something. Nothing. “Sure, of course. Would you like some tea? I can order a fresh pot.”

“I would love some, thank you.” He takes the seat opposite of you and hands you your pencil back. You’re careful not to touch his glove. “I think you would miss this. It’s a very nice pencil.”

“Oh, ah, thank you. It was a gift.” A little blush burns your cheeks.

A ster uses the spray on his glove again, then smiles and takes off his mask  to set it to the side next to yours. “A lovely gift for a talented artist. You mentioned that you restore art; you never mentioned that you create your own as well!”

You nod bashfully. You’re not one to really share your personal pieces, even if they’re just sketches. “Yeah, I um. It’s nothing really special or anything. I just sometimes like to sketch whatever’s on my mind. Helps me relax, you know?” Aster seems to drink that bit of information in,  l ike he’s filing that in his long term memory for later. You are distracted by his expression of focus for a few moments before you realize you’re being rude and snap out of it to order the new pot of tea. “ Uh, do you have a preference to the kind of tea you’d like? I’m fine with pretty much anything.”

He looks at the pot you were drinking from and tips his head forward, as if smelling the scent of the tea. “Hm, is this an English Breakfast tea? That would do just fine, if you are alright with more of the same.”

You nod. It was a good blend, and the caffeine will be good to energize you for the walk back home and working on the other parts of the restoration. “That’s cool with me.” After ordering the next round of tea, you move to put your sketch pad and pencil away.

Aster stops you. “No, no, please, don’t let me keep you from continuing! It is a very good start, Malachai.”

“Oh, I um. I usually don’t draw when I’m around other people. It isn’t very friendly.”

“I beg to differ! Especially when you seem to have been stuck on the subject. Now that you have a reference, perhaps it will be easier to finish it off?” You blink. Reference? For what? You look back down at the picture, then back up to Aster. **Oh**. You’ve been drawing him this whole time. Your face flushes red, and Aster chuckles heartily. “Don’t worry, friend! I am not judging you in the slightest. In fact, I’m flattered to be the subject of even a small sketch of such a talented young man.” 

The robot maid comes out with the tea, and another raindrop cake for Aster. You quickly pile on the old stuff to get it out of the way, and accidentally spill the melted cake on the table. You curse in a panic and grab your cloth napkin to wipe it up, but unfortunately it spilled on the page you are currently working on and you sigh in frustration, tears pricking your eyes.  Now you’re doubly embarrassed. “Easy, Malachai, it’s alright. It’s just a bit of water and agar. It will evaporate and leave the page unharmed,” your friend reassures, helping you soak up the mess with his own napkin. He requests a couple new napkins from the robot maid, and a drawer behind the apron on it opens up for him to take what he asked for. He’s quick to clean everything up, almost expertly, before you really have time to react. You pay for the new tea while you apologize. 

“I’m—I’m sorry Aster. I’ve kind of had a rough day, I’m sorry that I spilled all of that,” you stammer shyly, shaking your head and setting the drawing pad aside.

“No need for apologies, Malachai! We all have days like that, hm?” Aster chirps, pouring your tea before pouring for himself. This Monster is always cheery. How does he do it? You are almost tempted to ask him to give you the secret to his success, with how quickly you’re feeling better from his infectious attitude. 

“Y-Yeah. I suppose we all do.” You pause for a moment, thinking about what you could talk about. “So um. W-What are you doing around here today, Aster?”

“Oh, I was just on a leisurely stroll~” He sighs, stirring in a bit of crème to his cup. “People-watching, as I do.” Aster looks up from under his glasses with a smirk that could be read as dark. “Seems I cannot keep from running into you, eh?” You shift in your seat. In context, it **should** be felt and seen as creepy. In just a few weeks you two have met more than any one person you’ve met around town. But somehow you manage to gloss over that and take it in stride as simply coincidence that you two yet again are meeting. It’s a bit confusing to your already frustration-muddled mind. You try to not dwell on it too much. The Miyakojima Ward isn’t that big, really. Especially because you’re so confined to just a few blocks. You probably run into people more often than you realize; you just acknowledge your Monster friend more easily because he wants to make conversation with you. Aster snorts when he sees you swaying awkwardly. “Well, not that our encounters are at all unpleasant, save for the first one when I knocked you down! I quite like running into you like this, Malachai. It is very good to see you are out and about, getting fresh air when you can. It must be frustrating with those crutches of yours living in such a crowded area of Osaka.” 

You glance down at them with a tight frown. “...Yeah, it can be a little.” Especially because there aren’t many people who really give you the room you really need to keep the pace of the crowd around you. It makes you feel even more freakish on occasion. And there goes your mind again, starting to slowly dip into the cesspool of a Bad Mood.

Aster is quick to change the subject a bit, though, when he notices you retreating into your own mind. “So, how long have you known this friend you were supposed to meet today?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Um. We’ve known each other for about. I don’t know, like five, six years? It was at an art museum, we were the only ones in front of a Van Gogh-- ‘Sunflowers’. We argued about whether or not it was a copy.” You snort sarcastically. “They were right, of course; it was a fake that was put in as an analogue to protect the real one. The legit one is worth one-hundred million United States Dollars, so yeah, they’re not going to put the real one out. The only reason they knew was because of the discoloration of the flowers after being under the lights the museum used. LED lights make SmartInk glow when you combine it with a photo flash.”

Aster smiles when you reminisce about meeting Fido for the first time. It seems he’s relishing in your little trip down memory lane. And, in all honesty, it’s making you feel a bit better. Of course, that is until your wrist watch beeps an alert at you. If you could you would spring out of your seat. “Shit, fuck, shit!”

“What’s the matter, Malachai?” Aster gasps, almost as flustered as you are as you scramble to gather your things and throw your mask back on.

“Fucking visiting nurse is springing a surprise audit on me. Fucking christ on a shit stick...” You whine, trying to reach your crutches. “He’s on his way right now… I don’t know if I’ll make it home in time…. Fuck shit. He’s gonna cut my hours now I just fucking know it.”

Your Monster friend picks them up for you and hands them to you, angled so you can slide right into them. You give him a grateful, but worried smile, and bow respectfully to him. “Do you want help getting home? I know a way to quickly get to where you need to go in Osaka.”

“A taxi’s gonna be too slow, and the closest rickshaw is six blocks away. Walking is faster, but thank you.” You insist, trying to untangle yourself from the chair. You fall over the seat, and faster than you can blink you’re upright, as if you hadn’t tripped at all. Aster is steadying you by your shoulders. 

“My transport is much faster than walking, I can assure you,” he implores, brushing off your shoulder casually. He already has his mask on.“Please, it’s the least I can do for you after interrupting your time again.” You blink. He’s not even questioning why you have a visiting nurse, or flinching from you as he continues to steady you carefully. It’s shocking—knowing that he’s a germaphobe and he is readily by your side making sure you’re not hurting yourself in your angry haste. 

“Uh…” You’re curious. What’s faster than walking, or a rickshaw in this side of the city?

Aster smiles and ungloves one of his hands after making sure you’re steady on your feet. There is a gaping hole in his hand, the  tissues a gruesome  black like the scars on his face. Before you can ask about it, he reaches out and says something a tad bit startling. “Do you mind if I hold your hand, Malachai?” You r ecoil just slightly , but shake your head to say that you don’t.  He reaches down and wraps his hand around your right one, which is death-gripping your crutch. “Close your eyes, if you will.” You do as told without question. This is very weird. You know of Monsters who have some special ability, like being able to procure fire from nothing, or imbue weapons with energy that burns. But what is Aster’s intention? So strange  for someone apparently afraid of germs  to want to touch someone else with a bare hand. Right?  You wonder if he’d feel different if he knew you carried a deadly pathogen...

Before you can really think on the significance of it all, he instructs you to think about your apartment building, and nothing else. The moment you think about the hall to your apartment door, right in front of the elevator, a flash of heat sears through you and takes your breath away, replaced by a chill that freezes your bones to the core. Another flash of heat hits you and a quick wave of nausea overtakes you for just a moment, all faster than your brain can truly process. The scent of mint hits your nose, and you open your eyes. Through your blurred vision, you see Aster is smirking, holding a starlight mint out to you with a gloved hand. You hesitate, but take it when he thrusts it closer to you insistently. “Welcome home, Malachai. You did much better than most do,” Aster chuckles, patting your back in congratulations.

“Uh. What just--” You look around, gripping your crutches harder to try to maintain your balance. You are indeed exactly where you imagined. In front of the elevator, your door just down at the end of the hall. You look up at Aster with wide eyes in disbelief.

“My method of transportation is… unique,” he laughs, patting your back again. “Come along, you’ve not much time before that nurse of yours arrives and I’m sure you want to freshen up, or be comfortable in the very least.” You try to take a step forward, but your whole body feels a little like the raindrop cake you ate earlier and your arms buckle while trying to support you. You bite down on the mint when your stomach turns again, crunching it into little bits. The concentrated mint calms your stomach for now, but your vision is a bit blurry. “Ooh, looks like I spoke too soon,” he teases, steadying you. “Come along, I’ll help you inside, hm?” He lets you do the walking mostly, with his hands guiding you along patiently. The door scans you both and he helps you into your apartment and sits you on the bed after taking his shoes off. He takes your crutches and sets them to the side, and helps you remove your shoes and sets them back over by the door. “Ah, if I may—where is your toilet?”

You point over the kitchen. “It’s past the table through that door… Thanks for helping me, Aster.”

“It is my pleasure, Malachai. I will be just a tick, alright?”

“Take your time. I’m just gonna. Sit here and try not to pass out. Heh.” You have to process what you just experienced. That was not at all what you expected.

Aster walks off to the restroom, having to duck under the door to get in. This apartment is the perfect size for you, shortie, but not for a seven-foot-tall behemoth of a Monster. You almost feel bad for being unable to accommodate him. But you try not to let it bother you. Not like you can actually change that, anyway. You look down at your hands. The hows and whys of you arrived so fast back home are whirling in your brain and you have **so** many questions for Aster when he gets back from the bathroom.

It looks like it’ll have to wait though. Your front door opens, and Ren is standing there smirking, seemingly expecting to come into an empty apartment. He grimaces when he sees you sitting on the edge of your bed crunching down the rest of the peppermint candy Aster gave you.

“Sup, Ren,” You sigh lazily. You really don’t feel like dealing with this asshole today. It’s bad enough that he inconvenienced your friend, let alone you and your failed drop. “So, what’s the deal? You’re supposed to give me twenty-four hours warning before you spring a visit on me.” You make another obnoxious crunch, noticing that it’s pissing him off.

Ren smirks and steps in, tracking black marks on your white carpet. You grit your teeth as he seems to purposely grind his shoes into the rug as he steps over to the counter to set his bag down. He knocks over a mostly-empty cup that was setting ‘in the way’ and it spills red juice on the white surface. “There’s been an outbreak of flu in this sector this week, and the committee wants quarantined individuals tested to see who’s breaking protocol,  **McKenzie** . You’ve been pretty busy, haven’t you? Why don’t we check your logs to see where you’ve been  and what you’ve been up to. ” He grabs your wrist cuff roughly and you recoil from him. 

“Ow, you fuckin’ ass, watch it. I only went to the tea house today. Dickhead.” He yanks you roughly back toward him and tears your cuff off to plug it into his tablet monitor. Your wrist is scraped and red, quickly bruised from how he removed it. You hold your arm to your body and rub the back of your hand. That really wasn’t necessary. “The fuck is your problem? Can’t you just ask for shit like a normal person?”

“I would, but you don’t really deserve my courtesy,” Ren drawls, scrolling through the logs on your monitor. He gets a really shitty grin on his face, and side-eyes you. “Look at that! You **did** violate protocol! You’re supposed to wear your mask at all times in Monster-run establishments. That was one of the epidemic centers on our map. Well, looks like I solved the mystery! Maybe the Counsel will stop wasting my time with crippled freaks like you finally.” He throws your monitor back at you, which hits you square in the forehead. You yelp and rub your forehead, looking down at your cuff and cursing a storm up at him. It’s broken. “Oops~” Ren laughs and then types something into his tablet. “Oh well. You got it for free. Not that you’ll need it when the Counsel reads my report, anyway.”

The bathroom door opens. “ Malachai, I absolutely love the soap that you have! Where ever did you get it?” Aster bubbles, rounding the corner to the nightmare you’re experiencing. You hold back  angry  tears. You can’t cry in front of Aster. Especially when Ren is present. Aster stops in his steps though, when he sees your face. You look up and glance between Ren and Aster. Your friend goes from bubbly to stony. Something else seems off about him, too, but you’re not sure you can place it with how blurry your vision is from the tears building up. Y ou can tell that somehow  he seems more… colorful at the moment. “Is there a problem here?”

“Who’s this? You didn’t mention you had a friend, McKenzie. Looks like not reporting your contact with others is going on your record, too,” your ‘nurse’ sneers, writing that down on his pad.

“I’m not sure who you’re speaking to. There is no one named McKenzie here, sir.” Aster is stiff, but remaining calm for the time being.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you? Yeah, she’s trying to pretend she’s a guy. Funny shit, right?” Ren laughs.

Aster glances at the nurse’s name badge, then takes a step toward Ren. Ren stands his ground. At first. “Hm, again, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I see one young man,” he says, waving toward you r trembling  body , “and one bully in this room.” Ren rolls his eyes and shoves his things back into his bag.  Aster takes another step forward, coercing the Human to take a step backward toward the door. 

Ren isn’t letting up. He even pokes Aster in the chest. It makes you wince. Aster, however, remains collected. “She isn’t a man. She won’t ever be a man. She’s a cripple with some fucked up moocher mentality. That’s all she’ll ever be.”

Aster puffs up a little, taking a more bold step at Ren. Aster’s eyes glow with a strange energy. Something between magic and contained rage. The Human nearly stumbles over his own feet.  “I suggest you change your tone with my friend here, Ren. He and I dashed here to make sure this impromptu meeting you  so unfairly  sprung on him would not be halted. He told me just how important it is to be seen by his nurse, and he has clearly complied with your requests  despite your clear disrespect of his humanity and his home .”  The nurse is just a half step outside of the door at this point. 

Ren is still trying to be defiant toward this giant of a Monster.  He’s really stupid. Nope, that’s it. He’s  just  stupid.  “The Counsel is quarantining patients with compromised immune systems. I-I am only doing what was required of me. By order of the  Disease and Disability Consulate, M-McKenzie is hereby under c onfined quarantine until the influenza outbreak is contained.”  Despite his stupidity though, he does have power. And it makes your blood go cold.

“Very well, when I find McKenzie I will let her know. If you are quite finished, I suggest you take your leave. **Malachai** is clearly tired from having to round three blocks on foot for you to waste his time, and needs his rest. I’ll see to his needs. Good day to you, sir.” Before Ren can get a word in edge wise, Aster leans down, becoming overbearing on the little Human. “I expect you will pay for the damages you have also caused to his apartment today, as well as cover the cost for a new wrist monitor. Thank you.” He closes the door on Ren, which barely scrapes the toes of the Human’s shoes, and turns around to face you. You’re doing your very best not to cry. You knew this was going to eventually happen. You’d get sloppy with your time outside and that asshole would use it to find a way to make sure you’re as miserable as possible. He’ll probably find a way to extend the quarantine for as long as he legally can, too. 

You can’t help it. You start trembling  more . Sniffling, despite the awful headache that’s setting in from the hit to your head. You’re trapped, and now you’re going to lose so much more  of the little freedom you had .  You won’t be able to take on more jobs, earn a little cash on the side to get things to make you feel a bit more Human. You can’t even finish the current project now, and you’ll have to refund the money. 

The more your mind cycles through the cascading effect of today’s events, the more you feel hopeless and sick and worthless. “I’m not sick, I’m not sick… this isn’t fair! I didn’t do anything wrong!” You keep muttering to yourself. You feel like the world is going to end, just because you wanted to eat outside of your apartment for a change. Aster steps over to you and kneels in front of you. You’re startled from his presence, forgetting for a moment that he is still here with you. But when you look up, you get a closer look as to why he looked different a moment ago.

He looks… Human. Tousled, strawberry-blonde hair with strands of grey, violet eyes, pale  peachy skin.  He still has his  pitch-black  scars though. Why does he look like that? You stare at him through your stinging, misty eyes, wanting to continue your fit but too confused to really do so. He realizes why you’re staring and smiles apologetically. “Ah, I am sorry, Malachai. This is just an illusion—it’s still me. When I saw the quarantine tape on your doors and windows, I didn’t want to get you in more trouble than it seems you already were in. It must be difficult to have friends over with how obnoxious your restrictions are. Especially if those friends are Monsters.” His eyelids flutter a little and a  grey  shimmer overtakes his form, dissolving the illusion into his normal shape. “I… hope that my presence did not exacerbate anything, Malachai.” 

“N-No. It didn’t. I promise it didn’t. It’s just. Just Ren. He’s. He’s an asshole.” You sniff and rub your head. You feel something crusty, and pull your hand away. Shit, you’re bleeding. Aster sees it and immediately stands to go to the kitchen. He comes back with a couple of your alcohol squares meant for your shots. You reach out for them, but Aster shakes his head and insistently reaches for your face. 

“Hold still, I’ll be quick.” The alcohol stings and you wince, but hold still as Aster asks. Well, this isn’t as bad as your wrist cuff hitting your face at least. 

“You… You really shouldn’t be handling anything with my blood on it,” you whine.

Aster smirks confidently.  “And why is that?”

“Why do you think I’m in quarantine?” You retort, backing away from him a little bit.

“Well, from the sound of it you have influenza. Which, I do not believe you actually have.” He laughs dryly and stands to throw away the swabs.

“I’m a carrier of Cellular Meltdown Fibrosis.”

“I know,” Aster replies lightly, turning to look for something in your cabinets. He finds a glass and fills it with water, then walks it over to you along with a tissue. You blink at him. He knew? How? He gives you the glass and tissue, and you accept mechanically. “There are a few cases I’ve seen around the city of survivors of the virus. People watching lends certain advantages when weighing risk versus reward.” Aster is so casual about your condition. Why is he not terrified, especially because he is a germaphobe?

“Aren’t you afraid to contract it?”

He shakes his head and smirks again. “Not at all.”  Aster stands and looks down at you. “Drink, Malachai. Cold water will help calm you a little. That tea was caffeinated. Th at drug isn’t particularly helpful for Carriers. You should have had an herbal tea today instead.” Did… did your friend just scold you for your choice in tea?

“W-What are you, my dad?” You snort. Confusing, but… the flip in subject changed your mood a little. You’re still really upset, but you feel a bit calmer at least. 

Aster laughs with you. “Do you mind if I stay a bit longer? Porting like I had then wasting my illusory ability on that cretin seems to have sapped my energy a bit.”

“Oh. I don’t mind. Thank you for your help, Aster. Really. Um. Help yourself to some food and something to drink. I don’t have much, because I haven’t ordered my groceries for the week yet, but I’m sure I have something.”

“Nonsense, Malachai. I couldn’t possibly take anything from your food stores. I insist, let me order in some food for us hm?”

You blush. “You—You don’t have to do that, Aster. I have food here, I promise.”

“I know, friend. But it’s the least I can do since we could not finish the tea you had ordered at the parlor.” He brings up his wrist and taps it a few times. “Hm—what do you have a taste for at the moment, lad? Do you like pizza?” Your stomach cramps a little and you wrap your arms around your middle. Oh, you were so stressed you didn’t realize how hungry you actually were. He laughs. “I will take **that** as a yes! Alright… How about… a pepperoni pizza. And… some bread sticks.” He taps his wrist a few times more and then pockets his hand. “Alright, Done, and done! That should be here soon enough.”

You blush, feeling a bit spoiled by your relatively new friend. “Um. Thank you?”

“Oh no, thank you. You allowed me into your life, and I’m learning so much! It’s quite exciting.” Aster bubbles, moving to the counter to wipe up the mess Ren made. “So, would you like to tell me about your current project?” You freeze. You never mentioned that you were working on something recently. He sees you freaking out a little and points to your desk at the far end of your apartment, where the statuette you were commissioned to restore is setting. Oh. You forgot to hide it before running out the door earlier. 

“A-Ah. Um, sure.”  You get up slowly after downing the glass of water, and you hobble over to your desk. Aster watches you carefully. You pick it up to show him. “It’s an old statuette of a pagan goddess—um, Athena, I think? I can’t remember what the lady said.”

“Should you be touching a relic with your bare hands?” he seems worried, even while rinsing out the towel from the juice. 

“Oh yeah, no, it’s perfectly safe. The statuette is made of fired earth clay. This stuff is pretty sturdy, and fingerprints don’t affect the material. What confuses me is that instead of using a glaze to fire with it, the original artist decided to paint it…. It makes it harder to restore. The paint mixtures need to be just right or it’ll just slip right off the surface and chip after a few years again.”

“Does your friend you were supposed to meet have any suggestions for tackling such a difficult task?” Aster steps closer to you to look at it more closely. 

“A-Ah. Yeah, they do. Kind of why we were gonna meet today, really. But they must have gotten side-tracked. It’s okay. I thought I could get it done early, but it just means I’ll be on time instead. Which is fine, but sometimes when I get things done early, clients will be inclined to tip me for being faster.” Which now sucks, because now you’re not even sure you’ll be free of quarantine in time to make the exchange. Which means you’ll have to **refund** the money and give the statue back. You won’t be in the red, but you won’t have any spending money left after this month.

You sigh and set it down, feeling the weight of your situation pressing on your shoulders again. You slump into your desk chair and grumble. “ Would you like to talk about what is weighing on your mind, Malachai?” Aster asks softly, taking a seat in front of you in a dining chair.

“Eh, I’m just upset. I’ll be okay, Aster.” You smile, but it’s not very convincing. He can see right through that and returns your tense smile with one of his own. 

“Quite understandable. I’m sure things will begin to look up after today, though. Hm?” He winks with his good eye, and you smile a bit more genuinely. You put the statue down and lean back in your chair. You know it’s probably not going to get better, but Aster’s optimism is actually kind of nice regardless. 

It could have been a lot worse. Thanks, Aster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize this chapter is so late, everyone. The end of the year got away from me, and the past couple weeks have been a sort of nightmare between work and scheduling and now the flu. I hope you enjoy this extended chapter! 
> 
> Much love!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine: quar·an·tine | \ ˈkwȯr-ən-ˌtēn  
1 : a term during which a ship arriving in port and suspected of carrying contagious disease is held in isolation from the shore  
2 : a restraint upon the activities or communication of persons or the transport of goods designed to prevent the spread of disease or pests  
3 : a state of enforced isolation  
4: a period of 40 days

Day forty of isolation.

You had to refund the money from the commission you took before things went to absolute shit, and used what little savings you had to have it mailed back to your client. It took four hours on your knees to scrub out the dirt the dickhead left in your carpet, and the red stain from the juice that spilled has become a permanent fixture on your once proudly pristine counter. You covered it with one of your make shift pot holders just to keep yourself from getting extremely angry every time you saw it.

Now, though, you’re going insane. You don’t have extra money, so you have to cook rice and eggs at least once a day to make your weekly grocery rations last. Which is filling, but that is about all you can say for it. Your belly is starting to feel distended, and you’ve started having to skip a meal to accommodate for it. Which in turn just makes you hungry anyway. And it makes it harder to stomach your weekly testosterone shot. It’s starting to seem that Ren got exactly what he wanted for you; absolute misery.

You can’t even get in contact with Fido anymore. It seems they’ve gone completely dark. You’re starting to think that maybe that day they were intercepted and imprisoned. Or they saw they were going to and are laying low. Either way, you’re alone. Even Aster won’t answer. Maybe he’s busy? Or maybe he’s keeping his distance because he still feels at fault for what happened over a month ago? It’s torturing you though. You just need someone to answer, to make sure you’re even still alive. But, would anyone even care? It sure doesn’t seem like it. Your friends abandoned you, your clients no longer exist, you have no family left to even say hello to.

You’re about to lay down for a third Depression Nap of the day when your doorbell rings. Getting up from your bed with a groan, you shuffle over to the door to see who is on the other side with the screen mounted on the wall. A woman you’ve never seen before is on the other side, carrying a black bag in her hands. She’s wearing a powder blue uniform dress, donning a shiny clear apron to protect the front, and flats to match. You press the button to speak to her. “Um. Who are you?” you croak, extremely tired and growing increasingly confused.

She looks into the camera, rocking back and forth on her heels lightly. She’s not wearing a mask, which shocks you a little. You’re under quarantine, so isn’t that protocol? The lady is smiling, and she holds up her badge for you to see. “Hello! My name is Kimiko; I am from the Consulate! May I come in?” The… Consulate? But you didn’t get a—Oh wait. That’s right. Ren broke your wristband. You look closely at her badge. It could be a scammer. But, it’s not like you have much to lose anyway.

“Ummm, sure? Come in.” You press the button to unlock the door and back up to let her in. She tucks her badge back into her pocket and takes a long stride into your place. She stops at the door and takes her shoes off before moving to set her bag on the counter.

“I apologize for the rather sudden approach. The Consulate has not been able to contact you and sent me to come over and administer a health check. You are Malachai Wright, correct?” Kimiko chirps, tapping something into her government-issue wrist screen. You nod, shocked that she is using the correct name for you. “For confirmation, what is your birthday?”

“Um. August Fifteenth, Twenty-Seventy-Four.” You lean on the wall as your legs feel tired from standing, your core starting to shake as you rock to the side to gain your bearings again.

“Great!” She types that into the monitor and looks up from it to see you struggling to stay standing. “Oh, you can sit. No need to stay standing and exacerbate your condition. Have a seat on the edge of your bed, I will be right over to you, alright?” Your head spins from what Kimiko says. Wait, you didn’t need to stand all those times Ren visited you? What the fucking fuck. The nurse grabs her bag to set it next to you instead, but sees you haven’t moved. “Come on, come on. Do you need some help? Do not be afraid; I am here to help!” She giggles as she reaches out to you with an arm. “Here, I will help you steady yourself. This way, this way!” You recoil as she gets close, almost out of reaction. You almost fall backward. “Easy Malachai, I just want to help you!” You hesitantly accept her arm and you shuffle back to your bed just in time for your knees to give out. You flop right onto the mattress and scramble to correct yourself.

“Sorry! S-sorry! I got this. I got this, I got this.” You stammer, straightening yourself with another violent flop to sit up.

“You do not need to say sorry, Malachai. You have done nothing wrong! With your partial paralysis it couldn’t have been easy standing like that for so long.”

Her kindness is throwing you for the biggest loop, and it almost feels like a trap. “What’s.. What’s your end game with this, lady?”

Kimiko seems surprised at your defensiveness. It seems she hadn’t gotten the memo Ren likely left for his replacement. “What do you mean? The Consulate just sent me to make sure you are alright, since you had not responded to the interview requests.”

“What interview requests?” Now you’re really confused. You never got anything. Not that you could; your only means of receiving communications from the government was broken by that shitty excuse of a person.

She looks down at your wrist, motioning to where your communicator used to sit. “Oh. I suppose that explains it. You could not have known, so how could you have responded? My apologies again, Malachai. I forgot that was another reason I was here! This visit may take just a bit longer than your normal ones; is that alright? Or we can reschedule if that works better for you. I have open hours all next week if needed.” Kimiko tucks her hair behind her ear and opens her black bag that she has set next to you, rummaging around in it as she speaks.

You scratch your head. “Uh, nope. Nothin’ going on. Today’s good as any, I guess. Not that I can leave anyway.” You wish you hadn’t eaten, now. She probably needs a baseline sample since she’s a new nurse.

“Well actually—That was one of the topics I wished to discuss with you today. But first I just need a sample of blood. May I?” She holds up the lancet vial and shakes it while waiting for your answer. Yep, called it.

“Um, I hate to tell you this, but I ate just before you came here.”  
  
“...And?” She seems confused.

“Don’t… I need to fast for blood draws?”

“Noooo, who told you that?”

“Um, the last visiting nurse?” You wince. You can’t even say the bastard’s name.

“Oh. Wooooow! No, sweetie, you do not have to fast. I apologize that you were told wrong! Now. Let me see your wrist for just a moment, please?” You stiffly hold out your hand for her. She takes your wrist carefully. Her hand is warm and it calms you down. You were bracing for a cold touch, you realize. Kimiko rubs your wrist down with a very strong-smelling alcohol pad, waves her hand over it to dry, and jabs your skin with the lancet expertly. You hardly even feel it. The nurse hands you a cotton pad to press into your needle mark while she plugs in the sample to her computer. There are a few beeps. More beeps. And a few more with silence as Kimiko studies the results. She nods, seemingly satisfied with what the screen is telling her.

After putting that away, she checks to make sure you’re not bleeding, and gives you a light pat on the shoulder. “You are probably the most patient patient I have had today, Malachai. Thank you! So, it looks like you are a bit low on iron, and your testosterone levels are also low. I am going to increase your dosage on the testosterone and prescribe to you a rounded supplement until we can get your nutrition more balanced. How does that sound?” Kimiko is very chipper as she tells you what sort of plan she has in mind for you.

You can hardly believe it. You’d been fighting with Ren for a long long time with getting a higher dose of T to really kickstart your transition, and here, first time meeting this nurse, you have exactly what you want **and** a note in your file about your malnutrition you’d been wishing you could report for a few months. “Um. Um…” 

“Is something the matter, Malachai?” She kneels down to look at you more squarely. You didn’t realize that she was really that tall. Then again, you are still reeling from the stark difference between the last visit from a nurse and this time.

“Oh, um. No? Not really. It’s just surprising. You hardly know me and you’re already upping the dosage on my T?”

She bows her head to confirm what you heard is correct.  “Well, of course! Your levels aren’t nearly high enough to really enable a gender transition.  Why would I  not  increase the dose? Are you worried about any health concerns that may make transition difficult?” 

H er response sends a zap of panic to your brain. Oh god, you said something wrong and she’ll think you’ve changed your mind!  “No! No. It’s. I’m fine. Just shocked is all, I promise. Thank you, Kimiko.” 

She nods and smiles, standing up straight again. “Alright then. How many of the smaller doses do you have left?”

You look over at your kit on the table. “Um, maybe another two weeks’ worth?”

“Okay. I’ll go ahead and put the order in so your upped dosages are delivered when you finish those. When do you inject, so I can put that in the file?”

“On Mondays.”

“Excellent. The first package of the new dosage will be delivered on the Saturday before your dose is needed. Is that satisfactory?” You nod. “Perfect.” She types a few things into her screen and then reaches into her bag. In her hand is a small and hard plastic case. “Oh, this is your new communication band, Malachai. The Consulate noted that your old one seemed to be offline, and is issuing you a newer model in its place. You still have the same ID number, and all you have to do is reset your pass code when you have the time.” You look at the box. You didn’t think that you could get a replacement without paying for it with a penalty to your monthly income for like a year. 

Hesitantly, you take the offered box and open it up. Holy shit. It’s a new-gen model. “Um, how—how much is this going to take from my monthly stipend?”

“Nothing!” Again, Kimiko seems surprised. “All Beneficiaries of the Consulate had been upgraded to newer communication devices, which started in December last year. I am surprised your previous nurse had not mentioned it or sent you a notification.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, he never mentioned it.” The fucker was even pocketing your yen each time he visited. What a goddamn scumbag. You shake the thoughts though, as you don’t want to snip at Kimiko. She’s too nice to offload your anger on. “Um. So, what else did you want to talk about? You said that this was going to be a longer than normal visit?”

“Yes! I think we have most of it covered. Mr. Malachai Wright, you have been cleared for your routine Quarantine Discharge.” She taps a few things into her wristband and looks up at you with a sweet smile. It falls when she sees you thinking perhaps a little too hard on this news.

Wait… if Ren was lying about the yen,  you start to wonder if  was he lying about that too. “Um, how much is that exactly?”

Kimiko hesitates for a moment. She seems surprised again that you wouldn’t know that already. “How much...?”

“Yeah, like, how many hours do I have for the month?” You feel embarrassed, somehow. Like you should have been paying more attention to all of this over the years. Your Gramma would be disappointed.

“You have no limits on when you can go out, Malachai. Just as long as you follow protocol and wear your mask when you traverse the city and avoid large crowds in enclosed spaces.”

“Was that… Was that always the deal?” You feel like you’re going to cry. Your face heats up, your eyes are pricking, 

Her shock grows. Has she never even heard of what you’re talking about?  “...Yes. That was the guideline the Consulate gives to all of their immuno-compromised charges! Unless there is an outbreak of disease in which poses a risk, there is no need to stay indoors away from others. What is unsatisfactory about this, Malachai?”

You can’t help it. A sob bursts from your chest and you bury your face in your hands. You’re so angry, you can’t even think. All you can do is cry. You want to use your crutches to impale that abusive excuse of a  dickhead for unnecessarily destroying your life. He told you that you can’t go outside hardly ever. He told you that even a cut would kill you. He took what little funds you had and halved it, he took your only means of getting a little extra money to work with. He took your  **freedom** . You didn’t want to make a fuss, you didn’t want to go through all the paperwork necessary to report him, but now… 

You’re wheezing. You feel sick and dizzy and angry. Kimiko kneels again and hands you a tissue. You gratefully accept it.  She waits until you’re calmed down a little before asking you again why you are so upset. 

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know that I wasn’t limited. I didn’t know I was quarantining myself when I didn’t need to. I’ve been so sick. I don’t have any savings left, I had no way of telling the doctor I needed help! I haven’t been outside in forty days!” You sob. 

“Oh, that explains so much!” Kimiko gasps. She pats your back carefully, hands you a tissue, and stands. “I will open the window. The air is so nice today!” Over at the window, she examines the quarantine tape. “I have not seen a patient with tape over their windows before. How strange.”

“I didn’t do that,” you hiccup. That was another thing that Ren forced on you. 

“Well, I suppose we do not need it, now, do we?” She reaches up as high as she can and pulls the tape off of the frame keeping it shut. “Mm! Tape makes a satisfying sound when you peel it off.” She balls it up and takes a closer examination at the frame. “Oops, the tape seems to have taken the paint off. I am sorry, Malachai. If you like, I can help arrange for your building manager to send a maintenance technician to repair it.”

You sniffle. “Um… Thank you. I would like that.”

She  smiles and nods her head while she walks over to the trashcan and throws the balled up tape away before coming back over to you. “Let’s sit near the window and finish this visit, shall we?”

You nod again. “Yes, please.” Kimiko helps you up and walks with you over to your little bench. You get comfortable, and she cracks the window open. Dust flies out from the frame where the tape was sealing it shut, but it blows away outside with a cool autumn breeze. Your dizziness subsides almost instantly as the warm sun tingles your exposed arms and the breeze hits your nostrils. You have to bite your tongue so you don’t exhale and curse with how good it feels. 

“There, now. The last things I want to do today with you is a preliminary interview before you meet with a Consul Delegate for a full interview and set up an appointment with your new doctor.” She pushes a light on her wrist, and it blinks blue. It seems she’s recording this part of the session. 

“New… Doctor?” There is a lot of new stuff going on and you’ve completely forgotten how depressed you were just thirty minutes ago with how much you’re being fed so quickly. New nurse, new doctor, new communicator, loosened restrictions… you almost expect to be told you’ve won some sort of lottery to move into a higher-end apartment with better accommodation for your wheelchair.

“Yes, your doctor on file is no longer in practice here. She left about three months ago for the United Federation of North America. So, the Consulate is wishing to interview you to pair you with a doctor that will best suit your needs.” She scrolls through her screen a moment. “The questions I will be asking will be similar to the ones a Delegate will ask you. This is just to confirm any conditions you have, and give you a chance to voice any concerns you may have. Is this satisfactory to you?” You nod. It’s not the first time you’ve had interviews for stuff like this, so you’re used to talking about the really intimate details about your body. 

“Good. So, the first question I have for you is: With your previous medical team did you ever feel threatened, or in danger?”

You have never heard that question before.  Shifting in your seat, you lean your head back onto the wall. You really didn’t want to stir up shit, but with all of this going on, what the hell. “Uhhh,  well. About that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being patient with me, everyone. With the current situation in the world I had been struggling to decide whether or not it was tasteful to continue writing BioHazard at the time. As such, I'd also had no energy to talk about disease when I am an "essential employee" living through this uncertain time. 
> 
> Please forgive me as my promise to write a chapter a month has fallen apart. It's been a hell of a year already and we're not even halfway through yet. UGH.
> 
> best wishes to all of you lovelies.


	5. The Glass Building

“_Malachai! Malachai! Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, dove.” You look up from the clothing rack you were curious about. Your allowance money was ‘burning a hole in your pocket’ as your Granny put it, and you were just dying to spend it on something nice for yourself. __Your Granny gave you a stern but relieved look as you smiled up at her. __Your goldfish attention span struck again, it seemed, and you had wandered off while your guardian was distracted and __was __asking a clerk __some questions__—something about t__oilet__ paper __you think?__ You were bored with t__he chatter__, a__s it had been the major subject of conversation and all over the news for weeks. “You should stay close to me, Malachai. You had me worried sick.” _

“_You don’t have a fever, do you?” You snorted, reaching up to her forehead in jest. _

“_Nooo!” She laughed back, swatting your hand away gently. “__Now come on! I don’t want to hang out too long around here. We have a few more things to get and when we get home I’ll slice up some mango for you to snack on while I make our supper.” _

_You licked your lips _ _and rubbed your hands together excitedly_ _. “With extra tajin?” _

_Grammy smirked and chuckled. “We’ll see, mijito. First we have to get more; I think you’ve eaten the whole bottle since we last shopped!”_

“_No wayyyy! It must’ve been the cat again,” you snorted, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you two walked off toward the cereal aisle nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. _

_You realized after you paused in front of the Raisin Bran a creepy stillness l_ _oomed_ _ in this path... The overhead music stopped and all you c_ _ould_ _ hear is the rumble of the ventilation. “G-Granny?” You stammered, turning to look at her shakily. The aisle was free of carts. And people. You spun around looking for your grandma_ _. She was on the floor sprawled face down in a growing puddle of blood with shoe shaped bruises on her delicate mahogany skin. You shouted, having called out to her, but all you could hear was an increasingly loud buzz of hundreds of panicked footsteps. The sound of the crowd _ _rattled your brain _ _as pain began to twist your back, like your nerves were linked to how loud the ravenous people were. It traveled down your back, into your legs, and as you tried grabbing Granny out of the way of the impending stampede you collapsed._ _ Excruciating pain seared your nerves, and it felt no matter how much you crawled you couldn’t even reach your downed loved one. Your sobs were desperate but silent. Inch by inch as you army crawled toward her, you felt another bone in your body snap, as if ghosts were responsible for taking you both out by way of stomping. _

_You felt yourself slipping into blackness._

You snap awake screaming and writhing, your legs’ nerve endings on fire from your hips to your toes. You realize quickly that you just had a nightmare and that you aren’t actually feeling anything, it’s just the memory of that horrible night flaring up. Your wrist is ringing to let you know someone is contacting you, but you’re shaking and are struggling to gather yourself to answer it. You sob for a minute or two. Your band is still pinging. You look at it while you hiccup. It’s a number you don’t recognize, but the ID code is related to the Consulate. Okay. Come on Malachai. Pull yourself together. You need to answer this. A few deep breaths later and some sniffles, you finally touch the screen to answer it. “H-Hello?” you snivel.

“Name and ID please?” a pleasant-sounding man on the other end requests.

You rub your forehead, stressed out and brain foggy from restless sleep and fear. “M-M-Malachai Wright, um… W-MJ… 560…. um… 3.”

That seemed to satisfy the person on the other line. “Hello, Malachai. My name is Ben. I am one of the emergency nurses at the Consulate assigned to your case. I received a distress signal from your monitor and am calling to check in with you. Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, as are your cortisol levels. Do you need a transport to the nearest facility for treatment?”

“H-Huh?” Treatment? For what? “I’m… I’m fine? I think? Sorry, I just… Just woke up so… I’m not entirely with it.”

“You are disoriented. Malachai, please take some deep and slow breaths. I will stay on the line with you until a transport comes for you.”

Oh shit, no, hell no. You do** not **want to go to a hospital right now. “What—No! Wait, that’s not what I meant. I just woke up from a nightmare, that’s all. I was sleeping, B-B--” shit you forgot his name. Rude.

“Ben,” he replies patiently. “It’s okay, Malachai. You don’t need to be nervous, okay? We just want to make sure you’re not in any danger.”

You’re doing your very best to sound calm. It’s not really working and it’s coming out like you’re being a jerk. “Ben. I’m not. In any. Danger. Seriously. I was just taking a nap when I had a nightmare. I don’t need to go to a hospital for that.”

“I’ll stay on the line with you for a few more minutes and ask you a few questions then, alright? We can determine if you do in fact need transport to the local medical ward or if we should just set up a STAT appointment with one of our staff members instead.” He implores.

You sigh. “F-fine… That’s fine. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Malachai. I’m here to help you. I know it’s scary, especially after a bad experience with one of our former associates.”

It took you a moment, but you process what Ben just said. “Former? Did he… Did he get fired?”

“Ren Ito has been terminated as of last week. Is this panic related to his continued abuse, Malachai?”

Seriously? It was this easy to file a complaint to get that fucker away from you forever? Wow. “Oh. Um, no. No, it’s related to something different entirely.”

“Would you like to talk about it now, Malachai, or would you like to establish care with a new doctor first? I understand that it can be uncomfortable talking about certain things over the phone.” Ben seems very patient. It’s odd talking to someone you don’t even know seem this concerned for your well-being. It’s a complete 180 from what you’re used to, and you’re not sure what to take from this.

“Uh… I um. Kinda just want to move on for now, please.” You feel bad. It seems he wants to help but you just… aren’t sure how much you can actually trust them all yet. After all, several years have passed since the first time Ren showed up and started destroying your life. The fact that there doesn’t seem to be a checks-and-balances in place to ensure the safety of Beneficiaries is a bit unsettling still, and the last thing you want is your deepest darkest secrets on file to be used against you again.

You can hear beeps and taps from Ben’s computer through your speaker. “That’s all right, Malachai. It seems your vitals are calming down now. How do you feel about having a more immediate interview to expedite your matching process? I see you have an appointment on the schedule for next week, but given how severe your episode was this afternoon it may be more beneficial for you to come in today. There is a small window open for one of our interviewers and several doctors that meet your preliminary criteria.”

“Why have that when I was told that they couldn’t fit me in til next week?” You hope that you don’t come across as offended. You’re genuinely wondering why they’d tell you one thing when there was an opening all along. It seems suspicious...

“Oh! That’s because we leave windows in our scheduling in case of more urgent matters that can’t wait a week or two for a longer appointment time,” Ben explains simply. “I can go ahead and send you a confirmation code if you like. You’ll be interviewing with Klara today. Is that alright with you?”

“Um. Sure? I guess. I don’t know who Klara is. But I’m sure that’s fine.” You can’t even remember who you interviewed with after everything happened. All you remember was that you were bombarded in the hospital by a bunch of people asking all sorts of confusing things. Then again, you were drugged up and not entirely with it when it all happened. A lot slips your memory from that time. You rub your head and roll your shoulders a bit. Okay, looks like you have to mentally prepare to meet some new people today. This is one hell of a whiplash of emotion.

“Don’t worry. Klara has one of the highest match success rates for Beneficiaries. You’re in good hands with her team.” Your wrist pings. A confirmation code is scrolling across the screen. “You’re all set, Malachai. Your appointment will be in about an hour. Don’t worry if you’re not ‘on time;’ STAT Appointments are a bit more flexible than fully scheduled ones. I’ve arranged a transport to pick you up at your complex. It should be there in about ten minutes. You will only need your Identification Card and your wristband. There should be no payment required. If you come across another associate asking for money, please do not comply and contact me as soon as you safely can.”

“Understood. Thank you, Ben.” Huh. You wonder if that was a note Kimiko put in your file.

“You’re welcome, Malachai. Have a safe and healthy day!” Ben chirps pleasantly.

“Uh… Thanks. You too?” You hang up and take a moment to process what just happened. Fucking stupid nightmare. You really just wanted to continue to decompress and try to create some more on your hologram program instead of focus on your shitty past. Things were going really smoothly after Kimiko assured you that things were going to be different. Leave it to your brain to fuck things up.

Groaning, you scoot off your bed and stretch, leaning on your bed for support while you try to gain your bearings. After a few moments, you decide to just pull on your comfiest black jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and your favourite knitted hat. You might be put through some tests and you may as well be as comfortable as possible.

As you tie your shoes, your wrist chimes. A woman requests your name and ID, like Ben had. “Hello, Malachai! My name is Yuki. I’m a transporter from the Consulate. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, just need to finish tying my shoes really quick and I’ll be down.” You are tying your shoes as you speak, trying to be mindful not to bump the wristband against your clothes and make any unnecessary sounds.

“Would you like me to meet you at your door with a wheelchair, or do you need any other assistance?”

“No, but thank you. I’ll have my crutches with me. Is that cool?”

“That is just fine. Just notify this number if you need further assistance, Malachai!”

“Uh… Thanks, Yuki.”

She hangs up, allowing you to stand quickly, throw your mask on, put your bag over your shoulder and slide your crutches on. You don’t waste anymore time. She seems nice, and you hope that you won’t get her in trouble for not asking for assistance somehow.

Down in front of your complex a tall, sleek car is waiting for you. A petite woman in an outfit much like Kimiko’s—minus the clear plastic apron—is waiting for you in front of the open door. “Hello! You must be Malachai. It is a pleasure.” She steps out of the way with a small bow and waves into the car. “Would you like assistance stepping in?”

“No, thank you.” You slide into the seat closest to you and look up at her once you slip your crutches off. “You’re Yuki, yeah?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good to meet ya.” You reach out to shake her hand. She does not accept, but simply nods her head at you with a smile. “The pleasure is mine. Are you ready to depart? It will be about forty-five minutes to arrival.”

With your own nod, you scoot inside further to allow Yuki to slide in as well. You try not to take it personally. Handshakes aren’t the norm anymore, but given your upbringing its almost just force of habit. You slump back in your seat and sigh, looking around at the self-driving private taxi. Your ‘driver’ presses a few buttons, the door closes, and you zip off toward the Consulate building. The interior is minimalist, with smooth grey seats lining three of the four walls and not much else. Flooring is smooth, the dash is just a rounded screen… It’s a lot more streamlined than you remember Consulate tech to be. How much have they really changed?

You start picking your nails out of boredom. You wish you could break out your sketchpad, but you don’t want to draw in front of Yuki. You’re not sure if you want to face prying eyes at your art from this woman with a more professional attitude than the other Consulate rep you’ve met. And headphones might not be polite considering you’re the only one in here with her. But you’re bored as fuck so you decide to at least break the silence. “So uh… how long… have you… been at the Consulate?”

“I have been with the Consulate for a year.” She is tapping on a clear piece of optic plastic.

Short and concise answers as she taps away on the board. You notice your picture is pulled up on the upper left corner of it. “I am going to ask you some questions to assist the check-in process. Are you comfortable with that, Malachai?”

“Uh… don’t suppose I have a choice?”

She smiles bittersweetly. “Mm, no.”

You sigh and nod, sinking into the seat just a bit more in defeat. Here come the torrent of repeating questions.

The questions are basic, confirming what the Consulate already knows in your file since the last checkup. But it fills enough time for you to arrive at the building. Yuki presses a button, and exits first. She stands guard as you gather your crutches and bag and exit next. You take a moment to look up to examine the building. It’s absolutely massive, just like all the others in this part of the city. Black glass gleams in the afternoon light, reaching high into the sky and threatening to cut fluffy white clouds in half as they pass by. A rainbow of light shimmers down into the vestibule over the drive as the prisms of the sign catch the sun and refract it in pleasant, almost inviting shapes. This is very far from what you remember the Consulate buildings to be like…

“May I assist you to the desk, Malachai?” Yuki bubbles, nodding her head at you.

“Uh… no. Thank you for your help, Yuki. Um. Thanks for the ride, too.”

“It is my pleasure, Malachai. Please have a safe, and healthy day! When you are ready to leave, the front desk will call for transportation back to your home.” She nods politely again and gets back in to park the vehicle after you nod in acknowledgment.

You look back up at the building when she drives away, and take a deep breath. Welp. You’re here now. Fuck. Your worst anxiety is starting to knot up your stomach, and it’s making it hard to move toward reception. Slowly, you make your way, and a person at the computer is there to greet you. Their bright green eyes sparkle in intense kindness. “Uh… H-Hi. My name is Malachai Wright. Um. I’m supposed to have some sort of interview today?” Upon closer inspection, you see that they don’t have Human ears, but neat scars and head hair shaved close around where they would have been. Peeking through their brown hair are a pair of fuzzy brown round things that look like bear ears. They twitch but don’t seem to focus on anything. It startles you a bit, and you find yourself staring a little longer than is polite.

They smile politely despite your disposition, and a voice catches your attention. “Hello, Malachai. We’ve been expecting you. To verify; what is your Identification Code?” The voice is pleasant, and the receptionist seems to be moving her head as if she is the one speaking. Her lips are not moving.

“Uh… W-MJ 5603. How—I’m sorry, how are you talking?” You are absolutely spinning from this interaction. What is this? They look Human, but have Monster ears, and they aren’t speaking with their mouth. You should be focusing on your appointment, but you’ve never seen anyone like this odd receptionist.

“Thank you. I’m speaking through my Identification Band. Your records say that you are only at a beginner’s level of Japanese Sign Language, so this is the way I communicate with Hearing individuals that both of us can understand.” They smile politely and hold up an optic board with a privacy notice. “If you would sign this, Malachai, I can show you to the interview room.”

“Uh… Sure. Thanks.” You reach forward and make a quick signature with your initials and date it before leaning back on your crutches. They put it in a slot in the desk and stand calmly, waving to the left hallway.

“This way, please.” They walk next to you, instead of in front or behind. The walk takes forever, it feels like. You both are going toward a glass lift at the end of the hall, so you try to strum up some conversation to break the long silence.

But what to talk about? “So uh… What’s your name? Pronouns?”

“My name is Madlayne. My pronouns are she, her, hers.” She is very straightforward with her answer. It feels very genuine, despite a computer talking for her. It’s like she radiates honesty.

The questions are burning. Could be the boredom of the long haul into the elevator. Could be just because you’ve finally gotten out further than your local block for a change. Could also be that you’re trying to take your mind off where you are at the moment. “S’um… I hope you don’t mind me asking…”

“I know what you’re going to ask. Don’t worry about offending me; you’re probably the most polite Human I’ve come in contact with in a while. I’m half Monster, Half Human.” She points to her wiggling ears, then her eyes. You finally take notice of the dark brown birth marks around her eyes. They look a bit like panda markings. Huh. You didn’t even know that was possible. “And no, I don’t have a tail.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that!!” You squeak defensively, blush dusting your cheeks for a moment. There’s a quick moment where you have a morbid curiosity to look at her back side, but it’s fleeting and you resist indulging that seed she implanted in your head. If she did have a tail, it wouldn’t matter anyway. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Though, it would be kinda cute and maybe cool even.

Madlayne laughs silently and crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course you weren’t. Again, you’re not going to offend me. I’ve heard it all.” The elevator dings, and Madlayne leads you out into the hall, and through a set of tinted glass doors with silver handles.

The room is large, sterile looking. Much like a board room meeting place you’ve seen in movies. A sleek glass table is in the center, lined by black mesh executive chairs. There is an older woman sitting at the head. Madlayne guides you to sit next to the lady. This must be… Clarice, was it? That sounds right. “Klara, this is Malachai Wright. ID W-MJ 5603. He’s here to be paired with a Prime today.” Ooh, so close. You commit the lady’s name to memory by repeating it in your head.

“Thank you, Madlayne.” **Klara** replies with a smooth, deep voice. “Have a seat, Malachai. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Um, just water would be fine, thank you…” you shyly request, sitting down and setting your crutches to the side as quietly as possible for you.

“Alright. Two water bottles, please, Madlayne.” Klara’s tone is bubbly and optimistic. It’s settling your nerves a little bit. Just a little. Maybe things are still looking up despite the hiccup you had during your nap? The receptionist smiles and bows her head before sauntering off to fetch the drinks. It’s only a few moments of the interviewer tapping away on her tablet before she returns with what was asked for. “Thank you, dear.” Madlayne nods again and waves goodbye to you before leaving.

Klara waits for the doors to shut before she starts talking. “Well, it’s good to meet you Malachai. I’m glad you could make it in today.”

“Not… like I had much choice. Ben was very adamant about me coming in.” You rub the back of your head. Stupid brain. You take your mask off and grab up your bottle of water to take a few sips. And you realize that it’s mineralized, purified water. You look at the label. Holy shit this is an expensive brand, what the fuck? Somehow you feel a bit intimidated by the water, now.

“Mm, yes. Well, given how severely your vitals spiked in your REM cycle it seemed only right to get you matched sooner than next week. I want to be the first administrator in the Consulate to personally apologize for your treatment over the course of your Beneficiary status. What you went through was absolutely unacceptable and unfathomable, and I assure you we will do anything we can within reason to rectify the damages done unto you.”

“Um. Thanks. I guess? What does that mean, exactly?” It’s not like you can ask them for a permanent raise or a new apartment in a better part of Osaka, or even just a more accessible part of Osaka. ...Could you?

“Well, in the initial report from Kimiko--your new Visiting Nurse--it seems that your current home is in serious disrepair and not quite accessible to your disability. She says that minimal accommodations have been made, and that she suggests that you are relocated or your current living arrangements are remodeled to work better in your favor. On top of the back pay you are owed, those are things you and your new doctor can discuss in further detail before making a final decision. I am merely a match-maker, so to speak, and can only **assist** in carrying out such tasks. I can’t order anything like a Consulate Doctor. But, that brings me to my next point. It seems that your very unusual case has caught the attention of our local Commanding Physician, and he has requested to oversee your care until further notice. He has bypassed all of the interviewing process to do this, but of course you can still deny his care and I can try to pair you with someone else. Is this satisfactory to you?”

What the… Wait, you think she’s speaking too quickly for you to really get what she’s saying. “Commanding...Physician? What’s that?”

“The Commanding Physicians are the highest rank in the Consulate. They are the panel which oversees all of the cases all over Japan. Normally they mostly deal with profiles to ensure the Resident Physicians and Visiting Nurses are doing everything according to law,” Klara explains simply. “The new CP of the Miyakojima District, however, has taken interest in your grandfathered case and has already launched an investigation into the reason your mistreatment went unnoticed for so long. Regardless whether you deny or accept his oversight, he will ensure that what had happened to you will not happen again.”

“Um. I can change my mind at any time?” You gulp nervously. You don’t want to get stuck with someone so powerful, especially if he really is that strict with his district…

“Of course, Malachai. You can always contact your caseworker—Ben, was it? And then you can do another interview process with us and find someone you are comfortable with.”

“Would it be OK if I talked with him first, before I make my decision?”

“Mm-hm! I’ll send him in, alright? He’s just down the hall. Stay here, enjoy the view while I go get him.” Klara smiles kindly and pats your hand before getting up and leaving the board room.

You turn around. The view from even this second floor is actually very pretty. You can see down the street into the higher-end shopping district, and even a little bit of the border of Miyakojima. The sun shines brilliantly over the glass walls and rooftops and signs. Maybe you could stay on this end a little longer now that you have a new communicator and explore? You don’t get to this side often enough to know the area. It could be nice getting to know a little more than your little city block. Your wandering thoughts are snapped back into attention when the door opens again.

And you have to blink hard to make sure you’re not losing your goddamned mind. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, let alone at the local Consulate building in a neatly pressed medical uniform.

“Aster?! **You’re** the local ‘Commanding Physician’?!”

He chuckles lightly and puts his hand on his hip, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Guilty as charged!” he retorts, giving a little bow to you.

Holy Fucking Shit. You have SO many questions for this evasive shithead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I know I said I'd be better at getting chapters out this year. But as we all know 2020 can die in a goddamned fire. Thanks for sticking with me everyone. Love you all! I can't thank you enough for all of the support you've given me this year. It means so much.
> 
> The two pictures in order are Aster and Malachai as drawn by HibernalBeast. She's here on A03 if I remember correctly... If not you can also find her on twitter or tumblr on the same handle! Been dying to share these two. Aster is drawn in his Commanding Physician Uniform! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is going to be another WIP. Don't worry. It's not replacing Sweet boy at all. This is an entirely different Universe. In fact, it's my very own Universe design. I've called it BioHazard, and this is going to feature Aster again, or at least his BioHazard counterpart. This is going to be more medically centric, as a fair warning for future chapters when I get around to them. I find writing heavy medical themes very cathartic and fun most of the time, so prepare thyself.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments if I've forgotten to tag something, and I'll fix that as soon as I can. I know this is probably gonna be darker than you're used to seeing from me. 
> 
> Thanks bunches!
> 
> PS: I was super hungry making this chapter because I was indeed craving Takoyaki. I'm not sorry.


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